Since leaving ShayKi I’d reverted to my old Gmail account from years ago. I’d not thought to tell Mum and Dad not to contact my work email, as they’d never used it before.
‘Yeah, I’ll send you my current one. Why did you try to email me?’
‘We wanted to discuss Christmas. You never remember details on the phone so I thought it would be easier to have it all written down.’
Less than thirty seconds for criticism number one.
‘You could have sent me a WhatsApp after the email bounced back.’
‘Yes, we would have got around to it, but things have been rather busy here.’
She then spent the next five minutes describing the highly important people they’d met with, the lectures, lunches and various other impressive things they’d been doing.
‘So anyway. Christmas. You remember the fantastic little charity we’ve been offering free consultancy advice to? They have an outreach during the week before Christmas, handing out gifts to children with a parent in prison, and we hoped you would consider a donation. Hats, or bags or something. I know they’re a big thing at the moment. The teen girls would be thrilled to have a ShayKi, rather than one of our usual fuddy-duddy brands.’
‘Wow.’ I sat back, wishing I’d poured another centimetre of wine. This was the first time my parents had mentioned my company in a remotely positive light. I had no idea they even knew how well ShayKi was doing, or how in the past few years our teenage market had boomed.
‘And then, well, we felt that seeing as Cameron is also visiting with Daytona…’
Who is Daytona? I would never ask, but would no doubt find out in great detail on social media as soon as the call had ended.
‘And given you were unable to join us last year…’
Because I’d been informed they were far too busy to take any time out to see me, even if I’d wanted to come.
‘We’ve decided to take off the day itself. A contact has offered the use of a beach house. It’s rather ostentatious for our taste, but you’d probably love it. All designer whatever and impossibly complicated gadgets. Anyway, we can light a fire, order in food, walk on the beach, hope it snows and have a jolly old time for once.’ Mum paused to let this bombshell sink in, and when she spoke again her voice was stilted. If I hadn’t known better I’d think she was almost nervous.
‘What do you think? I know your business keeps you dreadfully busy, but would you be able to squeeze us in? We can have the house for three nights.’
I took a deep breath, determined not to reveal how emotional I was. Furious that she was talking as though it were down to me that we’d not seen each other for almost eighteen months, and spoken less than a handful of times. Unable to help how my heart cracked in two at my mother requesting to spend time with me.
If Shay and Kieran had been there, I’d have assertively told her what I thought about a last-minute invitation to take a nine-hour flight across the ocean and spend three whole nights battling with jet lag and parental passive aggression.
Now, here, if it hadn’t been for the logistics of travelling with a passport-less Bob, I’d have been tempted.
‘Anyway, think about it as flights are horrendous that time of year, and you’ll need to hire a car to get to the house. How do we move forward on a ShayKi donation? Are you able to expedite the request, or do an email introduction to the right person? We don’t have time to waste on people with no authority to give the go-ahead. Do you have someone who oversees social impact?’
‘Yes, Mum. For thirteen years, that was me.’
Contrary to my parents’ belief that all our business cared about was conning women on TikTok to spend money they didn’t have on things they didn’t need, all three founders were adamant our business would be a positive force in our city. We had rigorous policies about social value, sustainability and ethics. I’d created a fashion and business scholarship for Sheffield University and we partnered with women’s and youth charities to provide apprenticeships, training and flexible employment.
‘Ah, marvellous. Shall I send you the details?’
‘No.’
We’d been on the phone for long enough for a headache to start pounding at the back of my skull. She was never going to ask how I was, or what I’d been up to. I could hear her gearing up to end the call and move on to the next task on her list.
‘I’m sure Shay or Kieran will be able to sort you out with a donation, but I’m not with ShayKi any more. I resigned.’
A brief silence while she processed this.
‘Why? What are you doing instead?’
I could almost hear her holding her breath, praying I’d moved on to something more in line with the family values.
‘I had a baby.’
Mum released her breath with a brittle laugh. ‘Oh, my goodness. For a moment there I thought you said you’d had a baby.’
